The release of Songs From The South: Paul Kelly’s Greatest Hits is in many ways a joyous occasion, undoubtedly satisfying the many part-time fans of Kelly, hopefully infiltrating the younger generation; in the smallest, a sparkling account of the magnificence of Kelly’s songwriting career. But Songs From The South also raises a proverbial Pandora’s Box of questions: Is Kelly, Australia’s greatest lyricist, about to hang up the guitar and his mountainous songbook? It certainly must be considered. It’s been over 16 years since the release of Talk, and greatest hits albums are fast becoming a death bed for artists.

Or is Songs From The South simply a bookend? Another signpost in a career that has been defined by quiet evolution, from pub rock to blues, to soul-like balladry, to folk and back again, Kelly has embraced change but never thrown his listeners. His songs always coloured with his quintessentially Australian voice, keen sense of melody and an unwavering ability to define emotions and settings down to the finest wrinkle on the human face; the faintest hint of an Esplanade sunset.

There is no way to answer these questions. Songs from The South is neither eulogy, nor baptism at this stage, and regardless of what the outcome is, it should be seen as a friendly reminder not to take one of the greatest living songwriters for granted.

Paul Kelly broke with his original band, Paul Kelly and The Dots in 1982. Stripped of a record contract and slightly unsure of his next move, Kelly moved to Sydney in 1984 and began work on the $3500 recording project that would become Post. Described by some critics as a demo version of songs that would eventually be re-recorded (‘Look So Fine, Feel So Low’, ‘White Train’, ‘Adelaide’ and ‘Incident On South Dowling’) for Kelly’s next double album Gossip, it would be easy to see Post as an outtakes album; a blueprint for the true formations on Gossip. But like Springsteen’s Nebraska, there is a beauty and delicateness in this rawer production – the emphasis is now on the words, the melodies, the flawless song structures that are the defining elements of Kelly the songwriter.

‘From St. Kilda To King’s Cross’ is a fitting opener to both Songs From The South and Post. On Post it is the sounds of Kelly developing the traits which would be his early calling card: his localised narratives and delicate portrayals; whereas on Songs From The South it is a fitting reminder that, since origin, Kelly has fought against Australia’s musical assimilation to America and the UK. When listening to the opening sentiment of the song: “From St. Kilda to King’s Cross is thirteen hours on a bus”, it is easily recognisable as the writing of Paul Kelly, such is the strength, presence and familiarity of his craftsmanship. But at the time of Post, Kelly was constructing his own musical language and taking chances by gambling on the public actually wanting to listen and embrace the goings-on of their own backyard.

Musically, the song is still one of Kelly’s finest. Catchy, part factual and always emotive, the greatest songwriter’s in history have done more with two chords, limited vocal ranges and the power of words (Dylan, Reed and Young) than the sum of distortion pedals, gimmicky synths and convoluted lyrics. Kelly is no exception, his conciseness and lyrical metre, as memorable as the melody.

It is interesting that many consider Post nothing more than a demo, as the album is far weightier than your average unplugged session. ‘Incident on South Dowling’s dark remembrance of a man unable to stop death, is a pensive jig alive with hoots, harmonies and delayed vocals, the sounds of whispers on the Sydney streets. Similarly, the minor-sound of ‘Blues For Skip’ is a smartly produced affair, Kelly sounding nigh-on unrecognisable as his reverb drenched vocals open the track: “Babe, there’s no water in the well.”

It is the darker side of Post which best reveals the brilliance in the production of Post. Under budget constraints it is a particularly noteworthy achievement that album producers Kelly and Clive Shakespeare were able to not only cleanly capture the essence of Kelly’s more straightforward numbers (“From St Kilda to King’s Cross’ and ‘Look So Fine, Feel So Low’), but to imbue the darker tracks with the sonic weight to fit Kelly’s characters.

Lyrically, Kelly’s Post characters are a mix of the downtrodden, the dirty and the distinguished; a combination which allows the album to be varied, and dark, without being morbid. From the prostituted love of ‘Look So Fine, Feel So Low’, to the brawling delinquency of ‘White Train’, Kelly balances tough luck stories with a sense of optimism (“I guess I’ve landed on my feet/I’m lucky I suppose) and everyday heroics (“I stuck until the end/Though you said I was no friend”) that lightens the tell-it-like-it-is straight facedness of Post. It is only during the bleak ‘Blues for Skip’ that there seems no light at the end of these tunnels: “Babe, I can’t find a vein/Babe, I can’t find a vein/I’m digging and I’m digging”.

For the casual Paul Kelly fan there is probably little need for you to own Post, you will be quite content with the wall-to-wall sing-along that is Songs From The South. But for those of you who want a soundtrack to soul searching, for anyone who consistently finds the best songs on albums are not the singles, or simply for those who appreciate flawless song crafting then Post is for you; as it should be.